While in incubation
The unformed butterfly heart of the nation,
like the hang- man in the tarot deck.
Upside down she tumbled into the unfamiliar,
viewing life’s constructions
with revived creativity.
“What now?” she whispered.
Her mother always said after one of her tirades,
“Oh, but what about the mystery?”
Is the empty cup empty
with a suspended, animated new substance,
as yet unnamed,
nourishing all who sip?